


Praise Me

by agentmoppet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Draco being a bit of a tease, Harry not knowing he's gay and being oblivious for a while aka my usual Harry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmoppet/pseuds/agentmoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is Malfoy getting all strange and flustered? All Harry did was praise him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praise Me

**Author's Note:**

> Response to this prompt on tumblr (oh god I took so long to write it I'm so sorry):
> 
> Ok, so along the lines of dracos parseltongue kink (which I looooved by the way) maybe before Draco knew he had a kink for it, they could be at a quiddich game and Harry could put it to use! Ps. I LOVE pretty much any fic were they think their not gay but then 'find out'. Sorry for the paragraph! 
> 
> IVE BEEN REQUESTING TOO MUCH D: so sorry but I'd love a fic with Draco piecing togeather the signs that Harry likes him and Draco being a tease. Also I LOVE to hear inside Harry's mind like what he thinks about Draco. Although it doesn't have to be a POV fic I'd love if you'd do this ^-^ thank you!

The sound of the crowd had faded, and Harry could swear the tiny fluttering of the snitch's wings was as loud as a bird soaring past. He clenched his jaw and stretched out his hand – just a little closer, and he'd have it.

A pale hand reached out beside him, brushing against fingertips and stretching just the tiniest bit further until-

“Slytherin catches the snitch! Slytherin have won the game!”

Harry's hand dropped beside him, and he looked over at Malfoy in shock. Malfoy's pale hair had come free of the slimy potions he used to slick it back from his face, and was whipping around in the wind. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted as he stared at the gold orb fluttering in his tightly clenched fist.

Malfoy had caught the snitch.

The anger and disbelief welling up inside him suddenly gave way at the sight of Malfoy hovering there, staring at the snitch like he had never seen one before. He began to laugh instead.

Malfoy's head jerked up, and he glared at Harry from across the small space separating them. “Wouldn't be laughing if I were you, Potter,” he snarled, his familiar sneer once more in place. “Slytherin are top of the ladder, now.”

“I know,” Harry said, wiping away more tears of laughter. Now that he had started, he didn't seem able to stop. “It's just-” he doubled over again, ignoring Malfoy's indignant expression as he fought for air. After several moments, he finally managed to get himself under control. “You didn't cheat or anything,” he finished, earning himself a confused frown. “You won fair and square.” He flew closer to Malfoy, quietly appreciating the small flinch that Malfoy tried to hide. He stuck out his hand. “You played really well, today, Malfoy.”

Malfoy's breath hitched, and a flush rose up his cheeks. Malfoy stared at Harry's hand, studying it as though it were a trap. Finally, he stuck out his own hand and grasped Harry's in a surprisingly firm grip.

“You too, Potter,” he muttered, before speeding off to where his team was celebrating.

“What's got you so hysterical?” Ron muttered when Harry had caught up to the rest of the Gryffindor team, most of whom were throwing dark looks in the direction of the Slytherins.

“You didn't see the look on Malfoy's face?”

“What, the one where it looks like he's just sniffed hippogriff dung?”

Harry shook his head, glancing back over to where Malfoy was leaning back against the quidditch stands, attempting to look casual and unruffled, but unable to keep the massive grin from his face. “No,” he said slowly, nodding his head toward Malfoy. “That one.”

Ron had already turned away, dragging Harry along with him so they could make it back to Gryffindor tower for the party. In amongst the revelry, Harry found his thoughts returning to Malfoy and the strange reaction he'd given when Harry had congratulated him.

It wasn't until the fourth or fifth time he had revisited Malfoy's pink flush, and the tiny catch in his breath, that he decided his behaviour might be verging a little on obsessed, and shoved the whole thing from his mind.

 

~oOo~

 

“The Slytherins have been acting very strangely all day,” Hermione murmured as she slid into a seat beside Ron at lunch. “Have you noticed?”

“'Ey're almays stange,” Ron valiantly attempted around a mouthful of pie.

Hermione winced but otherwise ignored him.

“Ron's right,” Harry offered. “They are always strange. What's different about them today? Are they plotting harder than normal?”

Ron snorted and promptly started choking.

Hermione somehow managed to glare at both of them at the same time, before flicking her hair and eyeing the Slytherin table curiously. “No,” she said. “That's exactly it. They don't look like they're planning anything at all. I haven't seen a single Slytherin whispering today. Don't you know how strange that is?”

Harry frowned. “Now that you mention it.” He trailed off, turning to study the students on the other side of the Great Hall.

Several of them were laughing, most were chatting animatedly, and some were even doing strange, gentle things like braiding each others' hair. Not a single Slytherin was doing anything that Harry would have labelled as plotting.

“They're up to something,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Hermione pulled at her lip, looking conflicted. “Maybe,” she agreed. “But who can tell?”

“Ma'foy,” Ron suggested, reaching for another slice of pie.

“Malfoy?” Harry repeated, his head turning towards Ron of its own accord. “What about Malfoy?”

Ron swallowed his mouthful and cut into the new piece. “Well, you could trail him or something. If anyone knows what's up with the Slytherins, it'll be him.”

Hermione made an odd, strangled noise. Ron looked up in concern, and a look passed between the two of them that Harry couldn't decipher.

He shook his head, ignoring their odd behaviour since it was most likely couple-related, and began to think of ways that he could shadow Malfoy. Where would he be likely to reveal the most information?

“Er, actually,” Ron stammered, his face growing suddenly pale. “What I mean is, Malfoy is the least likely to know what's going on.”

Harry looked up with a frown. “But you just said-”

“The _least_ ,” Hermione interjected firmly.

“You'd be better off following Blaise Zabini,” Ron said at the same time. 

Hermione glared at Ron furiously. 

“Or no one,” he amended. “You could try following no one. I hear that's a really good option.” 

Harry shook his head, too distracted by his new plan to follow why his friends were acting so strangely. “I'll catch him after Potions,” he muttered, standing up and swinging his bag onto his shoulder. “I'll see you there, okay? I just want to go get the cloak.” 

He left the Great Hall, Hermione and Ron staring forlornly after him. 

 

~oOo~

 

“For the last time, Pansy, you sound like a demented skrewt.”

Harry choked down a laugh and slowed his steps, having just caught up to the two of them as they left the Potions classroom. He pulled the Invisibility Cloak tightly to him.

Pansy raised one eyebrow. “That doesn't even make sense, Draco,” she purred. “Your insults weaken when you're feeling cornered, don't you know?”

“I haven't the faintest idea what you're dribbling about,” Malfoy insisted, readjusting his bag and lengthening his strides as they walked back to the Slytherin Common Room.

“I'm merely suggesting that there might be something more to the mindless insults you two throw about-”

“Pansy,” Malfoy muttered through gritted teeth.

“-and while I would ordinarily be the first to blast this darling of yours right out of existence-”

“Pansy.” Malfoy's voice was louder now – a vicious snarl.

“-I'm frankly tired of spending the last seven years watching while you pine over hi-”

“ _Pansy,_ if you say one more word, I will set Fiendfyre on your entire jewelry collection; don't think I won't. _”_

To Harry's growing confusion, Pansy smirked.

“Don't get so worked up,” she chastened. “I wouldn't out you. Even if we are in an empty corridor.”

“We're never in an _empty_ corridor,” Malfoy spat. “There's always someone listening.”

“Yes, well,” Pansy mused as they came to a stop in front of the wall that hid the Slytherin Dungeon. “That's working remarkably to our advantage, this year, isn't it?” 

Malfoy's mutinous expression disappeared, and he smiled. It was such a gentle, pleased smile that for a second Harry lost his breath, stumbling over the corner of his cloak and just managing to steady himself against the wall. 

“It seems that way.” Malfoy's voice was light, free of its usual sarcasm. 

And then they were gone, the wall closing behind them just as Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy long enough to realise it had even opened, leaving Harry alone in the hallway, cursing his stupidity.

 

~oOo~

 

“So,” Ron said carefully over dinner. “How'd your stalking go?”

“I'm not stalking,” Harry said automatically. “And there's definitely something up. Pansy said that having everyone watching them this year was working in their favour, and Malfoy agreed. They know that everyone is looking at them closely, and they're using it for something.”

Hermione's face was twisted in a pained expression, while Ron appeared to be trying not to laugh. 

“I agree with you, Harry,” Hermione said, looking over at the Slytherins. “How about I do some investigating? I think if I ask a few key questions I might be able to-”

Harry waved her off. “It's alright, 'Mione, I'm going to corner Malfoy after quidditch practice.”

Ron groaned. 

Before Harry could ask what was up with the two of them, Parvati suddenly stood up and waved energetically toward the entrance doors. The three of them watched with open mouths as the Greengrass sisters paused en route to the Slytherin table, before waving and heading over to Parvati with a smile. 

“I saved you some chole bhature,” Parvati said, making room for the two sisters. “I told you I'd convinced the house elves to try making it.”

Astoria laughed, a surprisingly pleasant laugh like a bell. “Did they do it right? They totally butchered our moussaka when we asked.”

Parvati grinned. “It's not bad, actually. I'll give them some tips.”

Harry dragged his eyes away from the three of them to share a very confused look with Ron and Hermione.

“Since when are they friends?” he asked Hermione quietly.

Hermione shrugged, looking just as alarmed as he felt. “I don't know,” she admitted.

Harry turned back to the girls, who were all laughing hysterically over something Daphne had said, and frowned. Without knowing why, he found himself looking over at Malfoy. Their eyes met, and Malfoy smirked, giving a small shrug that seemed to ask “what's the problem?”.

Harry stood up and jerked his head meaningfully toward the doors. Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise, but Harry was already walking out, ignoring Ron and Hermione calling after him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy stand up and follow him.

“Something got your knickers in a twist, Potter?” Malfoy sneered as soon as they were round the corner, out of sight of the doors.

“What's going on, Malfoy?” Harry muttered, looking around to make sure they hadn't been followed. “You've got your entire house in on something. I can tell.”

The smirk on Malfoy's face slowly spread until he was grinning at Harry. “This has been driving you mad, hasn't it?” he asked, his voice smug.

Harry clenched his teeth, fighting to keep from hexing the git. “If you're planning on hurting anyone, Malfoy, I can tell you now-”

“Relax, Scarhead.” Malfoy's grin was fading, his forehead creasing into a frown. “No one's hurting anyone. I think we've all had quite enough of that, haven't we?”

Harry paused, taken aback by Malfoy's words.

“Maybe you're just seeing a different side to us.” Malfoy's voice had its usual nasty edge, but there was an undertone of seriousness to the words.

Combined with the unusually honest comment Malfoy had made just before, Harry, for the first time, found himself believing Malfoy.

“You've-” He paused, clearing his throat and fighting not to look away. “You've got a point. Draco.”

Malfoy's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

“And I admire what you just said,” he continued. “People keep talking about revenge, when we should just be glad it's over.” He huffed a laugh, unable to believe he was praising Malfoy. “You said it perfectly.”

This time Malfoy's lips parted in shock, and his cheeks flushed pink. Harry watched in confusion as Malfoy looked away and ran a hand through his hair in a very unMalfoy-like gesture. This was the second time he had seen Malfoy react like this, and he couldn't understand what had caused it.

More than that, he couldn't understand his own reaction. The first time it had happened, he had dismissed his racing heart as part of the aftermath of quidditch, but there was no quidditch now. He ran a hand along the back of his neck, his stomach lurching in an unfamiliar and unwelcome manner, and began to walk away.

Just before he turned, his eyes flicked back for one final look at Malfoy. He froze. Despite the flush that still tainted Malfoy's cheeks, Malfoy was staring at him with a look of surprise and recognition, like Harry was a puzzle piece that had just slotted into place.

Harry tore his eyes away and left.

When he was far, far away from the Great Hall, he ducked into an empty classroom, throwing his bag down and leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists to stop the shaking. It didn't make sense. He shouldn't be so thrown by a simple expression. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push the memory of Malfoy's face from his mind: delicately flushed, a sharp intake of breath, and lips barely parted.

He groaned and rubbed his hand across his eyes. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. He knew the kind of circumstances where he would normally feel like this; they all involved girls. _Girls._ And certainly not Malfoy.

He picked up his bag again, shoved it roughly over his shoulder, and headed to class.

 

~oOo~

 

When he crossed the field to the centre of the pitch and saw who was waiting for him there, he considered turning straight back around. But he had never backed down from Malfoy before, and he wasn't going to start now. Despite how heavy his legs suddenly felt, he strode forward, forcing his face into some sort of expression that would hide the fear and confusion swimming below.

Malfoy choked back a laugh. “What's up your nose? You look like you swallowed a snitch.”

The way his stomach was feeling, he felt like he had swallowed a snitch, but now wasn't a good time to acknowledge that.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry spat. “Gryffindor has the pitch for practice.”

Malfoy lifted one finger and waved it under Harry's nose. “Not today. Today we're sharing.”

Harry glared at the finger, feeling a strange urge to bite it. Hard. Malfoy seemed even more annoyingly arrogant than usual, which couldn't bode well.

“Places!” Madam Hooch yelled. “And there's to be no fighting. We're having a practice match today, at the request of both captains.”

Harry shot Ginny an exasperated glare, to which she simply stuck out her tongue and flew off.

To Harry's growing irritation, Malfoy followed him, settling in the air alongside Harry as Madam Hooch blew the whistle to begin.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry snarled, edging his broom away from the blond.

“The pleasure of your company?” Malfoy suggested, flying around so that he was in front of Harry.

Harry gritted his teeth and looked up to see Malfoy smirking and leaning back casually on his broom. The sunlight gleamed through his hair and down his torso, casting small shadows from the ripples of the tight leather where it clung to his muscles. Harry swallowed and flicked his eyes back up to Malfoy's face, where his smirk was growing.

“My new quidditch gear arrived the other day,” Malfoy said airily, running a hand along the seams. “Personally, I think it's a little tight. What do you think, Potter?”

Harry stared as Malfoy shifted on his broom, the muscles in his legs flexing as he changed position so that he was leaning over the handle, feet braced behind him.

“Um,” Harry began, realising with horror that his voice had risen half an octave higher than usual.

“Are you two flobberworms going to start playing any time soon?” Ginny roared as she flew past, smacking Harry over the head on her way.

“Ow!” Harry rubbed the back of his head while Malfoy snickered.

Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, Harry gripped his broom tighter and shot off in search of the snitch. He could feel Malfoy close behind him, trailing him but never once trying to get in front. It made him feel twitchy and on edge. No matter how much he sped up, Malfoy was always just behind him.

He narrowed his eyes and looked out over the crowd, searching for the flash of gold that would end this nightmare. He paused. Something about the crowd looked different. There weren't many Slytherins, for some reason, even though it was a Slytherin practice match. And against Gryffindor, of all the houses.

No. That wasn't it. There were plenty of Slytherin's in the crowd; they were just mingled with the other houses.

Harry stared in astonishment at the mixed sea of red, green, blue, and yellow. What were they all doing?

“Come on, Potter! You're making it too easy.”

Harry spun around just in time to see Malfoy diving for a flash of gold. He swore and spun his broom around, but he was too late. He crashed into Malfoy just as Malfoy's slender hand closed over the snitch, sending them both toppling off the brooms and onto the ground, rolling until they came to a stop.

Even braced over the top of Harry, Malfoy's hand was still clutched around the fluttering ball. Harry could hear it struggling beside his ear, but he didn't turn to look; he was captivated by Malfoy's intense gaze.

“Don't tell me,” Malfoy murmured, his voice low. “You're going to call for a rematch.”

His eyes dropped to Harry's lips, making Harry's stomach flip in an unexpectedly pleasant way.

“It was just a practice,” Harry said distantly, unable to keep his own gaze from lowering.

Malfoy's lips looked soft and full, barely even chapped from the wind. Why was he looking at Malfoy's lips?

“Get off him, Malfoy!”

Malfoy's eyes widened as two sets of hands grabbed him under the arms and hauled him roughly away.

Harry's eyes refocused on Ron and Neville, who had shoved Malfoy behind them and were now helping Harry up. He had the sudden urge to hex them.

“Rotten luck, Harry,” Neville said, clapping him on the back. “But it was only a practice.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice sounding vague, even to his own ears. “No big deal.” He turned back to Malfoy. “You flew well,” he said, swallowing his pride and embarrassment at being distracted at such a crucial point.

And there it was again: the telltale flush on Malfoy's cheeks, far too sudden to be from the wind.

Harry frowned. He let Ron drag him away, looking back at Malfoy as he went. That was three times, now. If he didn't know better, he'd almost think that Malfoy liked it when-

“What'd you have to go and compliment the git for?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose. “Now he'll think he actually deserved it.”

“He did,” Harry said stupidly.

Ron only rolled his eyes and made a big show of checking for a concussion. Harry took his time in the shower, telling the rest of the team that he'd meet them back in the common room. He needed some time to think.

Unfortunately, he still hadn't found any answers by the time the water was running cold. Or rather, the only answer he'd found was that he was acting like a scared little first-year, running from something he didn't want to admit. He was an adult. He'd killed the Dark Lord. Things like this should be easy now.

He sighed and dressed quickly, leaving the change room at the same time as he could see the Slytherin team making their way back across the pitch.

The Slytherin team, minus one. Harry quickly changed directions.

The Slytherin locker room was quiet except for the quiet sounds of rustling fabric. Harry turned the corner to see Malfoy standing in muggle trousers, bent halfway over as he tousled his hair dry with a towel.

A single drop of water slid slowly down the middle of Malfoy's back. It broke through the last of Harry's resistance; he could no longer deny the obvious, and it was time to stop running.

“What was all that about, then?” he asked quietly, fighting back a smile when Malfoy jumped.

Malfoy spun around, dropping the towel around his shoulders and raising an eyebrow. “What was what about?” He leaned back against the lockers, arching his back slightly in a way that was so deliberate, Harry had no idea how he'd missed it before.

Pity for him that Harry had finally figured out Malfoy's weakness too.

“You know, that catch was really something,” Harry said conversationally, stepping forward and straddling the bench. Malfoy's breath stuttered. “You did a one-eighty turn in about a half second, and on an older broom, too.” He leaned back on his hands and smiled up at the other man like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. He locked eyes with Malfoy, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I was really impressed.”

Now that Malfoy was so conveniently shirtless, Harry could see the flush start just above his chest, creeping up his neck in a way that was surprisingly endearing.

Malfoy opened his mouth but shut it again quickly. Harry knew now that Malfoy had been flirting all afternoon, but now that he was faced with the reality, he seemed to be warring with something in his mind.

Harry smirked. “Is this what it's like, watching you try to choose between giving into your pride as usual, and submitting to something you really want?”

Malfoy's mouth dropped fully open. If Harry wasn't finally committed to his newfound honesty with himself, and to where it would lead, he would have laughed. Even from this distance Harry could see that Malfoy's pupils were huge and dark, the grey of his eyes barely visible.

Seconds past, and neither of them moved. Harry took a deep breath, knowing what it was that Malfoy wanted, but couldn't ask for outright.

“Why don't you come here?”

It still shocked him to see Malfoy push off the lockers without hesitation and cross the floor, straddling the bench and sitting across from Harry. His heart was beating so loud that Harry could see it, thudding beneath his damp skin.

The way he sat there, eyes never straying from Harry, waiting for further instruction, made Harry's pulse race. He was already hard, but Malfoy's eyes on him were making him ache. He longed to adjust his trousers, to run his hands along himself in some relief, but he had a better idea, one that he thought Malfoy would appreciate as well.

“I love your mouth,” Harry said slowly, lowering his gaze to Malfoy's full lips.

He didn't have to hurry to look away this time.

Malfoy's eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a breathless moan. Harry hadn't been certain just how much Malfoy wanted this, but the sound of that decadent cry went straight to his cock, and all his concerns vanished.

“I bet you're brilliant at sucking cock.” Harry had never heard his voice quite so low and hoarse before.

Clearly Malfoy hadn't either, as there was nothing breathy about the moan that fell from his lips this time. His hands flew immediately to Harry's trousers, and his fingers shook as he unbuttoned them and pushed them down. Harry obligingly lifted his arse so that Malfoy could pull his trousers lower, and he felt Malfoy's breath ghost across him.

Unthinking, he thrust upwards and groaned when he felt Malfoy's lips gently brushing the head.

“More,” Harry whispered, the syllable devolving into an unintelligible cry when Malfoy suddenly opened his mouth and took him inside in one motion.

Just like that, they had passed the point where they could pretend this wasn't about to happen – wasn't _happening_ – and Harry felt Malfoy suddenly let go, his hands grasping onto Harry's hips and gripping them, tight then slow, while his tongue lapped eagerly at Harry's cock.

Through a haze of lust, Harry remembered what it was that Malfoy wanted, what he needed, and he managed just barely to bring himself back from the edge. He brought one hand to the back of Malfoy's head, running his fingers tenderly through Malfoy's hair, tracing soothing patterns. He felt Malfoy moan in response around him, and he bit his lip in an effort to regain control.

“You're so good at that,” he said quietly, feeling Malfoy speed up in response. “You look so sexy like this.”

His last vestige of sanity cried out in protest at the idea of Malfoy being sexy, but there was no longer any point denying it. With his model-like features, his hands made for wicked things, and his lean, quidditch-toned body, Harry wasn't sure he could think of anyone more attractive.

Malfoy hummed, the sound vibrating around Harry and nearly sending him cresting over the edge. But he wanted to hold on just a little longer.

He brought his other hand around to Malfoy's neck, rubbing and soothing while he rocked gently into Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy looked up at him, grey eyes dark with lust, and somehow – _the fucker_ – managed to smirk, his lips red and glistening around Harry's cock.

Harry gasped, his head dropping back and his hips moving rapidly at the sight of Malfoy, still so proud and haughty, no matter that he had Harry balls-deep down his throat.

“I love it-” Harry breathed, losing control, “-when you look at me like that. Fuck – _god –_ that feels so good. ”

He felt Malfoy stutter and then moan, and he whipped his head up to see Malfoy's hand moving furiously as he thrust into it, spilling over onto the bench between them and groaning his orgasm around Harry.

With a shout, Harry followed, grinding up into Malfoy's warm mouth before finally leaning forward and bracing himself heavily on the wall beside them.

Malfoy sat up slowly, his breathing harsh and his eyes heavy-lidded. “Meet your expectations, did it?” he drawled, his voice husky but thick with amusement.

Harry grinned, looking up and meeting Malfoy's challenging gaze. “You really are very good with your mouth,” he said quietly, and then before Malfoy could stop him, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

Malfoy stiffened in surprise, and then his hands slowly came up to Harry's neck, holding him there while their lips parted and their tongues explored, surprisingly gentle given what they had just done.

“Can I return the favor soon?” Harry asked, pulling back so he could see Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's expression became carefully guarded. “I suppose-” he began.

Harry dropped his hand to palm Malfoy's crutch, making him moan and thrust forward involuntarily. He leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “You have the sexiest cock, and I haven't even got to see it properly yet.”

He felt Malfoy smirk against his cheek. “You know this can only end in tears,” he said quietly, an oddly serious note to his voice.

“Tears or screams,” Harry retorted, grinning as he stood up and rearranged himself.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You're incorrigible.”

“Oh,” Harry said when he finally felt decent again. “I meant to say – sorry for suspecting something was up with the Slytherins. You were right. There is more to you all than I had assumed.”

To his surprise, Malfoy burst out laughing. “Well, yes,” he said finally. “But I have to admit, the fact that all you see from us right now is unity and friendship is, shall we say, calculated.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean? It's not real?”

Malfoy made an exasperated noise and shoved him lightly, before grabbing his shirt and pulling it on. “It's not _false_ , Potter, but you can hardly expect us to not realise the value of a particular public image so soon after recent events.”

Harry continued to stare at him until Malfoy finally stopped and gave him his full attention, sighing faintly as he did so. 

“None of us want to see a repeat of the war,” he said carefully. “And we want to make it clear where our loyalties lie. You have to agree that if you were to come upon a group of us whispering, you'd immediately jump to conclusions, even if we were only planning a new business proposal.” He grabbed his bag and arranged it delicately on his shoulder. “So, we keep our _plotting_ ,” he shot Harry another grin that made Harry feel unavoidably sheepish, “to our common room, and the rest in the public eye. It's not a lie; it's just the truth that you wouldn't see otherwise.”

Harry blinked. “That's so... Slytherin.”

Malfoy smirked, before holding out his hand, ever so hesitantly, to take Harry's. Harry squeezed back. “Well, you're going to have to get used to that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
